Caring is Creepy: The Derek Hale Story
by grangerinvestigations
Summary: Alpha or not, if Derek Hale thought he could tell Stiles who to date, then Derek Hale could suck it sideways.
1. Shelby Lamb

They weren't _friends_, exactly, but Stiles considered Derek to be somewhat of an acquaintance _plus_. Allies definitely: over the past two years they had worked together too many times to be anything but a team. They tolerated each other with an easy, bickering shorthand that annoyed their fellow pack members but made sense to _them_. Derek drove Stiles crazy, and vice versa, but hey, their relationship worked. So, yeah, friends was too strong a word. They spent a _normal_ amount of time together - researching, training, watching movies, going to dinner - okay, maybe they were friends. _Maybe_ Stiles _occasionally_ had impure thoughts about the prickly werewolf, too, but that was the extent of it.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to date humans," Derek told him one evening, apropos of _absolutely_ _nothing_. Here they were, sharing a perfectly nice, perfectly non-supernatural-emergency-tinged dinner, and Derek drops that brilliant bombshell. Stiles tried (and failed) not to choke on his milkshake before answering him.

"What?" He managed, eyes tearing up as he forced down chocolate peanut butter goodness. "What are you talking about?" They were discussing the new _Avengers_ movie, for the love of God.

"It's not safe," Derek said. He looked down at his burger instead of Stiles, perhaps shamed by the ridiculousness of the statement.

"_I'm_ human, bozo," Stiles reminded him.

"Exactly!" Derek said, as though Stiles has seen the light. "You're human and a complete disaster. Stiles, you got kidnapped _four times_ last year."

"One of those times was you!" Stiles protested, waving a fry for emphasis. "_You_ kidnapped me!"

"That wasn't a _kidnapping_," Derek said for the twentieth time, as if it made it any truer. "That was a lesson in self-defense and increasing awareness of your surroundings. Which you failed, of course."

"Derek, you knocked me out with chloroform and locked me in your haunted mansion's catacombs for four hours." What the hell.

"I left you a bottle of water, and if I'd been a hunter or a rival werewolf, or some other kind of creature, you'd be dead. Lesson learned."

"Okay, we've had this argument too many times for me to revisit this right now. I get it, you are Mad-Eye Moody, constant vigilance. What does any of it have to do with me dating?" Stiles asked.

"You're getting well known in the local supernatural community," Derek said.

"_Local supernatural community_, oh my God, that sounds so stupid," Stiles interrupted.

"Your dad's not a target because he knows what's going on now," Derek went on, frowning at him. "He can protect himself and he knows how to be careful, but some random layperson could be used against you, Stiles. It's just not safe. You don't see me casually hooking up for that very reason." Derek sat back in his seat across from Stiles, arms crossed and with his "I Mean Business" face on. Stiles had way too much experience ignoring that face to be intimidated by it now. Honestly, it was almost adorable, how Derek still thought he could scare Stiles.

"I can't see you 'casually hooking up' for _any_ reason," Stiles said, crossing his own arms in a mirror of Derek's stance. "You don't like feelings or joy. Or people."

"Look what happened to the last woman I dated, Stiles," Derek said, gritting his teeth. "She was used as Alpha bait! Before that, I was seeing a guy in New York who had himself committed to a mental institution when I shifted to save us from a mugger. Kate Argent is another shining example of what happens when werewolves date humans."

"Okay, you have rotten luck, I'll grant you that," Stiles said, sighing a little. Derek always won the Woe is Me Award, bless his tragic little heart. It was hard to stay mad at him when Stiles thought of the shitstorm the poor guy had lived through for eight years. Things were better now, but they weren't _perfect_. "I really don't think that has anything to do with me, though. Again, not a werewolf."

"Just think about it, Stiles. Do you want to be the reason some poor girl is creature chow, or some sad sack ends up in Arkham Asylum? _He had himself committed_."

"Don't use Batman references to try to disarm me, Derek. It's always the worst case scenario with you," Stiles sighed, figuring it was safe to attempt another sip of his shake. "I could be heading out the door for tacos and you would intercept them, brooding about poison. It's exhausting. I am really intrigued by your continued use of the word 'creature,' though. Is that your new word? Seems a bit speciest, coming from a werewolf."

Derek merely continued to scowl at him, eliciting another dramatic sigh from Stiles. "Look, I understand what you're saying, but I also think you're being melodramatic. What's your solution for me? Monkhood?" It wasn't like Stiles had some sort of bumping social life anyway; he'd only dated one girl, and it hadn't ended amazingly or anything. He'd made out with a couple of guys at Jungle, too, but nothing for awhile. He'd thought eighteen might be a turning point, for vague Derek-related reasons, but nothing had happened and he didn't appreciate Derek's attempt to boss him while simultaneously showing zero romantic interest in him.

"No, Stiles," Derek said in the infuriating voice he always used when he thought Stiles was being especially dense. Like _Stiles_ was the stupid one here.

"What, then?" Stiles asked. "What about someone who knows the score? Would that be acceptable, oh Alpha, my Alpha?"

"Lydia's not interested."

"Well, thanks for the update, dickwad," Stiles said angrily. "I _have_ actually gotten that memo. Jerk."

"Sorry," Derek said, sounding anything but. "I don't think you have a chance with Danny, either."

It was lucky Stiles wasn't in the middle of another drink or bite of his dinner, because he definitely would have choked to death on that one. "Okay, I am not interested in Danny and you are seriously pissing me off right now."

"Stiles-"

"Nope. You are not my boss or my keeper and my love life, or painful lack thereof, is none of your damn business." Another emphatic bite of fry.

"I'm just trying to keep people safe," Derek said.

"No, you are trying to control the last little bit of my life that doesn't concern you," Stiles said, still annoyed. He refused to be moved by the sincere look on Derek's face. "I can date who I want. I can date Peter for all it affects you."

"Stiles," Derek began, a look of horror on his face.

"I don't want to date Peter," he said quickly, his own disgust making him gag. "That was just a very gross, very inappropriate example."

"Good," Derek said, brow slightly unfurrowing. "You don't want to give him any ideas."

"I really don't," Stiles agreed. "The point remains the same. I can date who I want, Derek. Human, werewolf, _creature_ or otherwise. You can't stop me."

X X X X

Derek should forbid him from dating more often, because three days after his ridiculous proclamation, Stiles got himself a date. Shelby Lamb was on the girls' cross country team, and she had thick, dark blonde hair, gray eyes and freckles and was as cute as the proverbial bug in a rug. She approached him after practice and asked him to dinner and a movie; she blushed through the whole conversation but seemed reasonably confident. Stiles stammered a yes, no doubt just as red as she was. He'd definitely noticed her before; she actually _enjoyed_ running and the few conversations they'd shared had been fun and jokey and just the tiniest bit flirty.

"Vegetarian and a horror movie," Shelby said appreciatively as she sat down across from him. "You did your homework. Not too bad, considering I thought I would have to wine and dine you. I had a whole superhero theme worked out."

"Save it for next time," Stiles grinned at her. The date was going swimmingly, in his humble opinion, so he was pretty sure there would be a next time. "Besides, I didn't have to dig too deep. I saw you willingly eat tofu and overheard your thirty minute lecture on the superiority of Michael Myers over Leatherface."

"Leatherface needs to sweep up the chicken bones, it's disgusting," Shelby said, nodding. "I also feel Buffalo Bill should drain his murder tub and clean the fingernails out of the well. Being a killer shouldn't automatically make you a slob."

"I agree," Stiles said seriously. "You'd never catch Hannibal Lector leaving livers lying around."

"Absolutely my point," she said with a big smile. "This douchebag we just watched is another case in point. If you're going to kill people with a violin bow, you don't leave your bloody sheet music stuffed in the closet for any scantily clad undergrad to find. Its just sloppy."

Stiles wondered idly what she would think of the mess werewolves, kanimas and disgusting freaking _toadmen_ left behind, but he was too charmed to let the "local supernatural community" infringe too deeply on his thoughts.

"This place is my favorite," Shelby said after they had spent another fifteen minutes discussing the terrible remakes of _A Nightmare on Elm Street_ and _Friday the 13th_ and were digging into their eggplant and artichoke quesadillas. "Its sometimes hard to find vegetarian food besides french fries and pizza in Beacon Hills."

"I drag my dad here a lot," Stiles said. "He grumbles, but if he plays nice I let him have frozen yogurt for dessert."

Shelby laughed. "Do you let him watch the big boy channels when he gets home, too?"

"Only on Fridays."

She laughed again and leaned over the table, reaching her hand out to -

"Is that Derek Hale?" she asked instead, sitting back in her chair and quickly moving her hand away from him.

Stiles groaned and turned around. Sure enough, there was Derek, glaring at them from a few tables away.

"Speaking of serial killers," she muttered in a voice she probably didn't think Stiles could hear. Judging from the way Derek's expression shuttered even more, he had definitely heard it, too. In a normal voice, she asked, "You guys are friends, right? I've seen you together."

"Sort of," Stiles admitted.

"He looks pissed," Shelby observed, as if it was a news flash. "Everything alright?"

"Derek's a bit socially awkward," Stiles replied. "That's his way of saying hi. Hold on for a minute."

"What the hell?" he seethed under his breath, stalking over to Derek's table. "Did you follow us here?"

"Yes," Derek answered as if that was totally acceptable behavior. "I sat through that stupid fucking movie, too. Your date has terrible taste, and once again, zero awareness of your surroundings! How did you not see me before now?"

"Oh my God, you creep!" Stiles bit out, slamming himself down in the chair across from Derek. "You cannot _do_ that!"

"It's for your own good," Derek went on obnoxiously. Seriously, he needed new friends, Derek was a _psycho_.

"Fuck off, Derek!" Stiles pushed himself back away from the table and returned to Shelby; he slid into his chair, an apologetic smile on his face.

"I'm really sorry about that, Derek is -"

"I told my friend Jess we were going out tonight, and she was really surprised," Shelby said. "She told me you had a hot, scary older boyfriend and I must have misinterpreted your acceptance. That you must have thought I wanted to hang out as friends. I told her it was definitely a date." She looked sadly at Stiles.

"Shelby-"

"Ex-boyfriend, maybe?" Shelby relented. "You didn't look that pleased to see him. It shouldn't be too hard to get a restraining order, your dad being sheriff and all."

"That's not necessary," Stiles said quickly. "We're not dating, Shelby, Derek and I are definitely not dating. He's just -"

She waved her hand. "He _followed_ you, Stiles. On your date. He's glaring at me now, and he's not being all that subtle about it."

"Exactly!" Stiles said. "If he were trying to be more sneaky about it, it would be a problem. It's really, really not what you think."

"Whatever," she said. "I don't think I'm up for the froyo now. I'm kind of tired."

"Shelby-"

"I'm going to call Jess, have her pick me up." She stood up, pushing her hair behind her ear and surveying him sadly. "I'll see you at practice Monday, Stiles."

"Shelby, wait -"

"Bye, Stiles."

He watched her walk out of the cafe, giving Derek a wide berth when she was forced to pass his table. For his part, Derek looked more smug and punchable than Stiles had ever seen him, and that was pretty damn impressive.

"You're a dick," he said as he carried his food back over to Derek's table and flopped down in the chair. "I liked her."

"It's for the best, Stiles."

Yeah, he was definitely getting punched.


	2. Theo Wolfe

"I can't believe you're letting Derek get away with this shit," Scott said over the thumping music. "Tell him to stay out of your personal life."

"I have, like a million times," Stiles replied, leaning back in his seat and surveying the dance floor. "It doesn't seem to sink in! Shelby Lamb keeps passing me pamphlets on abusive relationships and shaking her head sadly, and her friend Jess glares at me judgmentally. Fucking Derek."

"Fucking Derek," Scott commiserates. "She was really cute, too."

"And a runner!" Stiles said. "She totally could have outrun any shenanigans coming our way. She also loved horror movies; she probably would have fit right in with a werewolf pack. Derek's a dirty overreacter."

"Does he know we were coming here tonight?"

Stiles grinned. "Nope. I told him I was helping you with physics. Why it's his business how I spend every single evening I'll never know. Is he this invasive with the rest of you?"

"Not to that extent," Scott said, smiling and shaking his head at a guy who was trying to make eyes across the room. Stiles snorted. Every single time. Scott was way more popular at Jungle than he was; it used to annoy him, but now he was resigned. Objectively, Scott was pretty adorable. Not _his_ type, of course, but Stiles could see the appeal. Besides the fact that they were best friends, Scott wasn't nearly rude enough for Stiles' tastes. Shelby probably wouldn't have lasted, come to think of it. She was awfully nice. "I guess he just thinks you need more protection or something. It's Derek, he's weird." Scott made dismissive hand gestures; even though they were mostly a cohesive pack now, and even though Scott and Derek really _did _act like wolfy brothers-in-arms, Scott would always be just slightly annoyed and perplexed by Derek. In his mind, Derek did creepy, weirdo stuff on the reg; this was just one more of Derek's idiosyncrasies. Usually Stiles was a Derek apologist, but in this case he really could not figure out Derek's motivation beyond being a massive pain in the ass, and he could do _that_ without all the cockblocking.

"Yeah, he's going to turn me into a bubble boy in the very near future. I've lasted this long, the chances I'll get killed, or get someone else killed before graduation is only like, forty percent."

"Those are good odds," Scott agreed, nodding solemnly.

"Seriously, why do I have to be the asexual sidekick?" Stiles asked, getting back on subject. "Wait, do you think he just means dating? I mean, I can probably have anonymous sex with strangers, right?"

"You can do whatever you want, dude!" Scott said, clapping him on his shoulder. "Derek's not the boss of your penis!"

Stiles choked on air; Derek was the boss of his penis in many (many, _many_) fantasy scenarios, but in this case, Scott was right. He knew Derek really was worried about him and any potential romantic partners, but the bottom line was, he could take care of himself. He was not any more of a magnet for trouble than anyone else, no matter what Derek thought, and he was not relegating himself to a life of frustrating jerk-off sessions and lonely dinners with his dad. He was eighteen years old, dammit, and he was going to get some.

"That's why you're my best friend, Scott," Stiles grinned at him. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go dance up on some dudes."

Stiles did that for awhile; he got some appreciative glances for his sweet dance moves (that was his story, and he was sticking to it), but no one really caught his eye. Maybe he should just drag Scott out to dance with him. If he was being truthful, he didn't really feel like hooking up with some random. He was just mad at Derek and wanted to prove to himself that the alpha didn't influence his every move. He made his way back over to his table, chuckling to himself when he saw Scott in conversation with someone. _Every freaking time._

As he got closer, he noticed the subtle scenting of the air that signaled werewolf before the man turned around, a seductive smile on his face. _Oh_.

"Stiles," he said, all warm tones and glinting eyes. "It's so good to see you again."

Theodore Wolfe, a super hot, super rich werewolf _actually named Wolfe_. He was a beta in the Wolfe Pack (no shit) out of L.A.; they'd visited last year and Stiles vividly remembered Theo flirting outrageously with him at the time. Derek, surprise, surprise, hadn't been a fan. Apparently handsome and charming just didn't make good impressions on Derek. Maybe if Theo had been draped in gray and misery he and Derek could have bonded. As it was, he reminded Stiles of an even more predatory Chuck Bass and Stiles was caught feeling feeling both turned on and terrified.

"Hey Theo," he said, careful not to allow his voice to break. "Fancy meeting you here. Derek didn't mention you were visiting."

"It was a last minute thing," Theo said, patting the seat next to him. Stiles sat down, ignoring Scott's raised eyebrows. "I have to travel for pack business and I thought I'd drop by to say hello. I left a message for Derek. I was heading over there when I drove past Jungle and caught some familiar scents."

"You could not seriously smell me and Scott in all this mess," Stiles pshawed.

"You're right," Theo admitted. "I ran into your pretty redhead friend at that coffee shop you all took us to last year and she said you'd be here, and I quote, 'pretending that plaid was appropriate clubwear.' I don't mind it. It suits you. And I _can_ smell you now, you know. I wouldn't forget that scent." Again with the eyes and the smile! He was seriously turning the flirt up to eleven, and Stiles couldn't help feeling flattered.

"Hey guys," Scott said, clearly uncomfortable with the amount of eye-fucking going on. "I think I'm going to head home. You okay here?"

"We're peachy," Theo said, sliding his chair closer to Stiles.

Fuck it. Theo was hot, Theo was _obviously_ into him, and Theo was decidedly not a human. So there, Derek Hale.

"Yeah, I'll call you tomorrow," Stiles said, smiling at Scott as he grabbed his jacket and prepared to leave. "Thanks for coming out with me. That's fifteen minutes of interrupted Allison talk that I owe you now."

"I'm holding you to that," Scott said. "Bye, Theo, nice to see you again!"

"Alone at last," Theo said when he was gone, putting his hand on Stiles' denim-clad leg.

Stiles burst out laughing. "Theo, we're in the middle of a club, surrounded by people. Also you're being _ridiculous_."

Theo smiled back, but didn't move his hand. "Maybe I am, a little bit, but I've been wanting to get you all to myself since we met last year. I had to wait for an excuse to come into the territory again. Let's get out of here."

Stiles flushed; he could feel the heat radiating off of his face. No one had ever been that blatant in their interest, let alone someone as good-looking as Theo. Theo wasn't _really_ Stiles' type; he was a little too slick, too superficial, and his interest in Stiles was clearly one hundred percent sexual, but Stiles decided that right now, he could work with that.

"Okay," Stiles said, licking his lips and watching as Theo's eyes locked onto his mouth. Shit, this was doing wonders for his ego. "Yeah, we can go."

"You two heading out? I got your message, Theo. Lydia said I'd find you here."

All of Stiles' Theo-built confidence fled as he flailed away from the table, turning to gape uncomprehendingly at Derek, who was apparently a fucking sorcerer as well as a werewolf. He'd literally just melted out of the crowd, dressed in his customary leather jacket and scowl.

"Derek, really?"

"Can I talk to you for a second, Theo?" Derek asked, not really giving him an out. Derek was the Alpha, Theo a visiting beta. He had to defer to Derek as long as he was in Beacon Hills.

Stiles turned incredulous eyes to Theo and watched as his shoulders slumped, all seductiveness draining out of him. He grimaced at Stiles and gave him an apologetic shrug. Stiles already knew how this was going to go. He sank back into his chair.

"Of course," Theo tried to smile at Derek. "I'm glad you got my message."

Derek led Theo out of Stiles' human earshot, but they were close enough that Stiles could tell it was not a friendly conversation. Derek gestured and looked angry while Theo tried to respond, shrinking under the irritation of an alpha. Finally Theo left, without even a backward glance at Stiles. Derek stalked back to the table, standing over Stiles and crossing his arms like he was disappointed in him, like Stiles had forgotten to take out the trash or something.

"Honestly, Stiles, _Theo_?" Derek asked, a world of judgment in his tone. "That guy is a gross scumbag. He looks like he buys stock in roofies!"

"No, he looks like _hot, consensual sex_, Derek," Stiles retorted. "So what, they have to pass a personality test now, too? What the hell is the problem with Theo? He's not a human, he's a supernatural _creature_, and its not like he's some strange omega I met in the woods."

"You can't date a wolf from another pack, are you insane?" Derek demanded, dropping into the chair across from Stiles. The fact that they were having this argument at Jungle just made everything even more surreal to Stiles. Derek was getting a _lot_ of appreciative glances but Stiles definitely didn't want people thinking he was here with him, even if it _would_ boost his profile. Stiles just wanted Derek to take a super dramatic flying leap off a cliff.

"Why the hell not?" Stiles threw up his hands. "This is getting out of hand, Derek."

"You're in _my_ pack, Stiles," Derek said. "What if things got serious with him? Would you leave our pack for L.A.? You have to think about this stuff!"

"Okay, seriously, Derek, Theo and I were not going to start dating, we were going to have no-doubt extremely satisfying sex." Derek wrinkled his nose at that statement, but stayed silent. "Fine, I assume Danny, Lydia and Allison can't date other werewolves either, right?"

"Of course they can't, not right now," Derek smiled, obviously pleased that Stiles wasn't going to fight him. "It'll be different when you all go to college next fall. I mean, obviously people have to date outside their packs, both humans and werewolves, or it would lead to inbreeding."

"Derek, _gross_."

"But for now, it's best not to rock the boat," Derek went on. "We're a relatively young pack. I don't want the Wolfes to get any ideas about poaching."

"I am not a _deer_, I cannot be _poached_, Derek," Stiles protested. "Still, I guess a werewolf named Wolfe is kind of stupid."

"Exactly," Derek grinned again. "I told him last time to lay off; frankly he had a lot of nerve trying to get past me again. If he hadn't left the message I probably could have made a complaint, but he _did_ follow protocol, even if he was being sneaky about it."

"Wait, you told Theo to leave me alone when they were here last year?" This was new information.

"You think he would have otherwise?" Derek raised his eyebrows. "He practically started panting when he met you, remember? It was disgusting. I was afraid he was going to fight me on it, but I reminded both him and his alpha that you were only seventeen. Did you send him a reminder about your birthday or something? I'm surprised he didn't show up at your party."

"Oh, that's really touching, Derek, you fighting for my honor," Stiles rolled his eyes. "However, as I've mentioned _several_ times before, I am not a kid, and I am capable of making my own decisions. It's yucky that you all had that conversation behind my back."

"Its a good thing we did," Derek said, "as you were obviously ready to jump him, and seemed pretty keen last year, too. You saved Theo from a statutory rape charge and a probable gunshot from your father. Again, he is nasty, and I am seriously questioning your taste."

"Oh, shut up," Stiles said crossly. Maybe Theo was a tiny bit sleazy, despite being scorching hot, and maybe losing his virginity to him wouldn't have been the _best_ idea Stiles ever had. So, adding in Stiles' appreciation of Derek and his _everything_, he was seriously questioning his own taste right then.


	3. Erica Catwoman Reyes

"Hey, son, you heading out?" his dad asked, poking his head into his room. Stiles turned away from the computer and grinned.

"Yeah, party tonight," he replied. "Erica and Boyd got their letters from San Francisco State, so we're celebrating."

"That's the last of you, right?" the Sheriff asked. "You got your Berkeley acceptance already, and so did Lydia and Danny. Scott told me there was a vet tech school in the city, and he and Isaac are both going to do that, aren't they?"

"Yep," Stiles said, nodding and closing his laptop. "God forbid we branch out."

His father came into his room, sitting down on the bed and fixing him with his Sheriff eyes. "Do you want to branch out? Can't you all be part of your pack at separate colleges? You did get into a few other good schools, Stiles, if you wanted to-"

"No, it's good," he assured him, shaking his head. "It's better this way. Berkeley's a really good school, you know this. Plus, there aren't any established packs in San Francisco, so anyone can live and go to school there without worrying about supersensitive werewolf feelings. Derek's coming, of course, and even Jackson's going there." Stiles gave a little mental eyeroll at that. He had heard from both Danny and Lydia that Jackson had matured since he left Beacon Hills, but he would believe it when he saw it, and probably not even then.

His father raised his eyebrows. "Derek is moving to San Francisco?"

Stiles grinned again. "Can't you just see him with all the hippies?"

"I really can't," the Sheriff replied. "Is that smart, all of you going? Who's holding down the fort here?"

"Ahh, that would be you, really," Stiles told his father, scratching the back of his head. "Peter, a little, Lord help us all. Mr. Argent, Dr. Deaton. We'll have a meeting about everything before we go."

"Nice of you to include me in your planning," his dad said, rolling his eyes.

"It'll be fine, Dad," Stiles said. "We've managed to lock down the territory pretty tight - there shouldn't be any trouble, contrary to what Derek seems to think. I mean, nothing happened in this town while the Hales were here before, and it was quiet until Laura and Derek came back. If anything, disaster will follow Derek to San Francisco."

"That's not very reassuring," his father said.

"It'll be fine," Stiles said again. "When have I ever steered you wrong?"

"Too easy," his dad sighed. "Need I remind you about _werewolves_? And where is Derek? I haven't seen him sneaking out of your room in over a week."

"We're in a bit of a fight," Stiles said. Stiles had been willing to let the Theo thing go - it had been a bad idea anyway, even if he still knew Derek was out of line - but then he saw Isaac on a date with Shelby Lamb - _his_ Shelby Lamb! - and he had called Derek to yell at him about double standards. Derek had hung up mid-rant and they hadn't spoken since. The party tonight should be _fun_.

"Shocker."

"We don't fight that much," Stiles protested. "Not anymore, anyway."

"You pick at each other _constantly_. You had a thirty minute argument about_ ice cream_."

"Cookies and cream is a _joke_, Dad, alright, it is the most generic flavor you can get, and that is not _fighting_, that is healthy discourse. There is a difference."

"Everyone likes cookies and cream," his dad said. "What was this _actual_ fight about?

"Derek's acting too big for his britches, as usual," Stiles says, waving his hands dismissively. He knew it would just make his dad mad at Derek, and he'd probably get a stupid lecture about Theo, too. "It's annoying, but I can handle it."

"Hmmm."

"What is that 'hmmm' of judgment about?"

"Nothing, really," the Sheriff said. "It's just that I thought the two of you would have moved past the pigtail pulling stage by now. You're grown men. Age-wise, at least, if not maturity-level."

"Yeah, Dad, that only exists in sitcoms and Shakespearean comedies," Stiles said. "In real life, when people fight all the time, it does not mean they want to jump each other." Of course, in his case, that's totally what it meant with Derek, because he loved getting a rise out of Derek, loved having Derek _react_ to him. That didn't mean Derek felt the same way. "Derek and I fight because he is a gigantic idiot."

"Well, I could think of a worse son-in-law," his father mused. "I'll reserve my 'I told you so' for the day I need it."

"Oh my God, could I graduate high school before you marry me off in exchange for two goats?" Stiles protested, throwing up his hands. "If you love Derek so much, _you_ marry him."

"Ahh, a classic, if unimaginative comeback," his father said, reaching over and ruffling his hair. "Have fun at your party, Stiles, and tell Erica and Boyd I said congrats. I want you home by one."

Stiles thought about what his dad said on the way over to Derek's apartment. It wasn't the first time someone had implied he and Derek had a more-than-friendly rapport; Erica especially liked to smirk knowingly at him and making kissy faces whenever Derek's back was turned. It wasn't even the first time his _dad_ had hinted at it. He didn't know if Derek got similar jibes or not, but all it did was confuse Stiles, and make him feel slightly hopeful in a way he knew wasn't all that healthy. Hell, the recent dating embargo had especially been screwing with his brain. Was this Derek's _extremely inappropriate and in no way acceptable_ way of keeping Stiles all to himself?

Judging from the scowl Derek gave him when he answered the door, probably not.

"Here," Stiles said, shoving a pan of brownies into his hands. "Don't say I never gave you anything."

"Ooo, peanut butter brownies?" Erica flounced up to them and snatched the brownies away from Derek. "My favorite! Thank you, Stiles." She kissed him on the cheek.

"Well, it is your party," Stiles said, smiling easily at her as she took her bounty to the kitchen. "Sorry, Derek, I guess I never _did_ give you anything."

"You've given me a hard time," Derek replied. "Does that count?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "That's terrible, dude. And honestly, I'm not done being pissed at you, so keep your stupid jokes and I will find an elsewhere to be."

"Stiles-" Derek tried to grab his arm, but Stiles dodged quickly.

"We'll talk later," he said. "Let's not ruin everyone else's good time, huh?" He didn't wait for a response, following Erica into the kitchen. She was already working on brownie number two, holding the pan out of Isaac's and Boyd's reach.

"All for me, none for you, bozos," she said around a mouthful of chocolate.

"You always class the joint up, Catwoman," Stiles said, leaning against the counter. "I'm sure San Francisco has been crying itself to sleep for years, dreaming of the day you would arrive in all your glory."

"The wait is almost over," she grinned, finally passing the brownies over to Boyd. "I intend to put my mark on the city."

"You will grace it with your beauty, milady," he said, sweeping into a deep bow.

"Careful, Stilinksi," Boyd said. "These brownies are good, but they're not good enough for me to share my lady love with you."

"Shoot," Stiles said, snapping his fingers in an 'aw shucks' gesture. "I thought I could sneak right in there."

"I'd certainly be an upgrade," Erica said, shaking her hair back over her shoulder.

"From what, my hand?" Stiles asked, laughing ruefully. "That's not so hard."

"Gross, Stiles, I meant from Theo," Erica corrected him.

"Come on, Theo's hot!" Stiles protested. "I don't know why you guys are so down on him. Sleazy totally works on some guys."

"He's like a young Peter," Erica said, mock shivering.

"Okay, that is completely off-base!" Stiles said over Isaac's and Boyd's hoots. "You have lost your mind, woman!"

"Nope, Lydia totally agrees with me, and she'll tell you herself when she gets here," Erica said. "She told me Theo slimed over to her to ask about you, all compliments and smirks and fake bows. She said it was like talking to the Preppie Killer or something."

"Whatever," Stiles scoffed. "He's good-looking enough that I could have worked with the smarm."

"Is that really what you like?" Derek asked from the doorway.

Stiles threw him a glare over his shoulder. "Doesn't matter what I like, does it, if he's not on the Derek Hale List of Approved Escorts."

"Am I on that list?" Erica asked slyly. "I mean, leaving Boyd out of the equation for a second - sorry, Boo - would I be able to squire Stiles around town?"

"There's no _list_," Derek said, sounding exasperated. "I'm not telling Stiles he can't date anybody, I just said he should be more careful - "

"Bullshit!" Stiles said, turning around fully to face him. He could feel Isaac and Boyd step back; Erica, on the other hand, appeared to watching avidly. "You _specifically_ said I couldn't date humans or werewolves and ruined my dates when I ignored you. I was there. It happened. Despite being eighteen and already having a father, you have dictated my dating life."

"You can date werewolves, Stiles, just not Theo or his stupid _Wolfe Pack_."

"Then that's settled," Erica purrs, before Stiles can reply to Derek's lying stupidity. She linked an arm through his. "Boyd, Stiles, how do you feel about threesomes?"

Stiles barked out a laugh, amused despite himself. "I'm game!"

Boyd tapped his chin, pretending to think it over. "Ahh, we could give it a try. No kissing on the mouth, though."

"Such a romantic," Stiles sighed.

Erica stepped away from Stiles and patted Derek on the cheek. "There you go, problem solved."

Derek opened his mouth - probably to spout more bullshit - but he was interrupted by the arrival of Lydia, Allison and Scott. Stiles gave Derek a snarky little salute and went off to greet his non-infuriating friends.

Erica, though, she played it up the _whole night_. She announced their new "relationship" to the rest of the pack, pulled Boyd and Stiles next to her at every opportunity and generally acted obnoxious.

"This might change the living arrangements for next year," she said while Boyd rolled his eyes and Stiles tried not to turn red at the way she was draping herself over him. "We'll need a bigger room, for one thing. Gotta fit that kingsize bed in there!"

Lydia looked intrigued. "I can watch sometimes, right? Just from a purely scientific standpoint."

"For science," Erica nods knowingly.

"Okay, you cannot use "for science" right now," Stiles said. "Also, if I knew you wanted to watch me have a threeway, Lydia, I would have done it ages ago. I'd have been on Craigslist for that shit."

"Not really watching for you, sweetie," Lydia said, twirling her hair around her finger and tossing an unimpressed smirk his way.

"Ouch." Stiles put his hand over his heart and climbed up from the couch, heading into the kitchen to replenish his drink. Derek, surprise surprise, was right behind him. He stood in the doorway again with his hands in his pockets, looking both hot and irritating as usual. It was no wonder Stiles was in a constant state of annoyed arousal when Derek was around. He'd been good at ignoring him most of the night so far, but now that they were alone in a room together it came snapping back, even if all of their friends were only a few feet away.

"I think this is getting ridiculous," Derek said.

"Oh, you think?"

"Erica is blowing things way out of proportion."

"Oh, _Erica's_ the problem, got it," Stiles said, rolling his eyes.

"Look, I shouldn't have hassled you about your dates, okay?" Derek looked disgruntled by the admission, as if it was deeply painful for him to own up to his own terrible behavior. "I think you're making way too big a deal about it, though, and you're making me look crazy to everyone. I have been getting insane judgment eyes for the last two weeks!"

"Yeah, because _you are crazy_."

"I'm looking out for your best interests, Stiles," Derek said without a hint of irony. Unbelievable. "I know you, alright? If something happened, or if your date was targeted because of you, you'd never get over the guilt."

"It's nice that you pretend this was for my and my imaginary date's benefit, and not yours," Stiles said. "I know you like to keep people safe and I know you _also_ fancy yourself our lord and master, but I can't help noticing I'm the only one whose love life seems to be your business. You don't give a shit what anyone else does."

"The only reason I care is that it affects me," Derek said, stepping closer and looking more and more pissed, like he was giving up any semblance of being reasonable. "Every stupid decision you make has a direct impact on my life. I can't have you whoring around town and inviting more trouble into our pack."

"_Whoring around town_, are you _listening_ to yourself?" Stiles shouted, no longer caring that their fight would clearly ruin the party for everyone else. It wasn't like anyone was ignorant of their current situation, or that they didn't know how Derek and Stiles acted toward each other. Besides, Erica had made it worse by drawing so much attention to it, so she could deal. "For the record, _you_ are the one that makes _my_ life dangerous and terrible, not the other way around, okay? I am sick of you being a creepy dick, and I'm sick of you acting like this is okay behavior. Stay out of my face, Derek."

With that brilliant and completely mature statement, Stiles stomped out of the kitchen, waved away whatever his friends were going to say and slammed out of the apartment. They could all suck it forever.


	4. Derek Hale

"What the hell," Stiles seethed as he walked into his bedroom and saw Derek sitting on his chair. "How did you beat me here? If my dad -"

"I called your dad on the way over," Derek said quickly, holding up his hands in surrender. "I told him what happened. He said I had ten minutes, but only if you didn't kick me out. I think I heard a gun cock, too."

"I _should_ kick you out," Stiles said, sitting down on his bed instead. "I told you to leave me alone, and as usual, you ignored what I said."

"I was way out of line and I'm sorry."

"Not going to cut it," Stiles said. "You don't get to act like this and then come apologize like it's nothing. _You don't talk to me like that!_"

"I know, I'm sorry!" Derek said. "I just - I hate Theo, okay! He makes me insane!"

"You are buck dropping again, Derek, just admit you have been a psycho! It's not anyone else's fault! Theo's not even around, he has nothing to do with anything! I let you get away with too much, and that is over."

"I didn't - you didn't seem that annoyed, not really," Derek protested. "I didn't think it was that big of a deal!"

"That's because I thought you wanted me for yourself, alright?" Stiles burst out, his face flaming red. He had to get up from the bed, he needed to be standing for this particular fight, this declaration that had been a long time coming. "And I figured, yeah, he's super awkward, but we can get through it, and I'll let him off the hook because when he's finished acting like an asshole, it'll be good. And then you called me a whore, for going on _one_ date and talking to _one_ guy, and you know what? Even if I was banging everyone in Beacon Hills, it _still_ wouldn't be any of your _goddamn business_!"

"That is what I want!" Derek said, finally standing up as well. "But you're in high school, and it seemed weird and bad, and I thought if we could just wait until next fall, when you're in college -"

"So keeping me in a bubble is a better decision than talking to me," Stiles said. He couldn't even feel happy at Derek's confession. It was too late, he was too tired, and he almost didn't even care. No matter what Derek said now, it seemed tainted. Fucking Derek.

"I don't even know why I said that," Derek said. He matched Stiles' own defeated expression. "I don't think that and I don't even talk like that."

"I know you don't, Derek," Stiles said softly. "Obviously we've both been pretty thick. But I don't want to be with someone who calls me names, follows me around and tells me who I can and can't talk to. What if Boyd tried that shit with Erica? I should have called you on it for real when you broke up my date with Shelby. I shouldn't have acted like it was okay."

"It's not your fault I'm like this," Derek said, running his hands through his hair and dropping back in the chair.

"Oh, I know this," Stiles agreed.

"What do you need? What can I do?"

"Nothing right now," Stiles said. He felt bad, seeing the dejected look on Derek's face, but he knew he had to be strong. He couldn't let him slide this time and still respect himself. Not yet, anyway. "I just need a break, alright? We can talk in a couple weeks, okay?"

"Okay," Derek said. "Yeah, I'll get out of your hair. Call me when you can."

Stiles nodded and watched as Derek left the room, shoulders hunched. When he was sure he was too far away to hear, he threw the closest object he could find against the way, wincing when he realized it was a breakable coffee mug.

"Breaking things isn't half as satisfying when you have to clean up after yourself," his dad said from the doorway. "Which you need to do right now."

"I know," Stiles said, grabbing the mini broom and dustpan from his closet. "That's why breaking bottles at the recycling center is so much better."

"Yeah, but you're not allowed there anymore," his father reminded him, coming into the room and sitting down on the chair Derek just vacated. "You alright?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Or I will be. We'll be fine." He cleaned up the porcelain shards before flopping back on his bed and looking at his father. "The course of true love never did run smooth."

"I told you so," his dad said smugly. "Although, I'm considering taking back my approval. I didn't like what Derek told me. Do I need to keep him away from you?"

"It's not that bad," Stiles said truthfully. He was mad and tired and he wasn't willing to forgive Derek at the moment, but he knew he _would_. Derek wasn't perfect, but he wasn't a villain, either. He needed to get his act together and learn how to both communicate effectively and curb his stalking tendencies, but Stiles had faith, and whatever, Stiles was far from perfect himself. He did think Derek was in the wrong and they _both_ needed to take some time before they moved forward, but Stiles honestly thought they could maybe get it together. Probably.

"You sure? It's not too late for you to meet a nice, uncomplicated vampire and settle down."

Stiles laughed. "So far, those aren't real, Dad, but I'll keep you updated. We're not together right now, and I'm not ready to wipe the slate clean. I'm not giving him a total pass just because he's been historically socially awkward. He still knew he was messing up, and instead of talking to me he acted like a creepwad."

"Creepwad, huh?"

"Honestly, I'm running out of words for creep," Stiles said. "I need to dig a little deeper to describe Derek Hale. Anyway, we'll work it out. I appreciate your concern."

His dad thankfully recognized the dismissal and left his room with a reassuring pat to the back. It would be fine.

X X X X

Amazingly enough, Derek left him alone for the next couple weeks. Even more astonishing, the rest of the pack stayed out of it as well. Stiles missed Derek, but he also appreciated the fact that Derek was both respecting his wishes and giving him some breathing room. Plus, the school years was winding down; he had other, non-Derek related things to worry about as well.

"Who are you going to prom with?" Lydia asked him with her patented hair flip. It had been awhile since it had caused a reaction in Stiles, but he could still appreciate her general air of fabulousness. They were pretending to study for exams, but really, they knew they could pass them in their sleep; what they were really doing was watching _Princess Bride_ for the umpteenth time. Priorities.

"Can't we go together?" Stiles asked. "I'll match my tie to your dress and everything." They'd been to three school dances together, including the ill-fated winter formal and it had always been easy and fun. Since neither one of them had a current significant other, Stiles had assumed they'd end their high school dance career together one last time.

"No can do," Lydia said, pursing her lips and picking imaginary lint off of her skirt. "Jackson's flying in for the weekend."

"Gross," Stiles said mildly. "I guess I'll go stag. Or rustle up some prostitute from lock-up; either way."

"You could always ask-"

"I thought you were staying out of it?" Stiles said in irritation. He knew his friends' silence had been too good to last. "We're not there yet, and seeing Derek in a tux might melt the very real and justified anger I feel toward him."

"I was going to say Shantal," Lydia said, her eyes wide in faux innocence. "But interesting that your mind went straight to Derek."

"You're not as cute as you think you are," Stiles said, flicking her in the head.

"Now, Stiles, we both know that's not true," she replied. "Derek _would_ look dashing in a tux."

"Enough."

"Sorry," she said, sincerely this time. "I was just wondering where you were. For what's its worth, I think you have every right to be angry at him. Just don't be angry forever. Even if nothing happens, you guys are friends, right?"

"Yes," Stiles sighed. "We're friends, and we will probably be more than that. Not at this particular moment, though, and I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Fair enough," Lydia said. "I don't think Danny has a date for prom, either. You two could stag it up together."

"It's not a bad idea," said Stiles, glad of the subject change. "We could wear matching bow ties."

"_Please_ don't."

"It's going to happen." He pushed further thoughts of Derek aside.

X X X X

It was three more weeks before Stiles talked to Derek. Prom came and went (Danny would not agree to matching bow ties, the spoilsport, but they'd all had a good time anyway), and graduation was a week away. Exams were over, school was out for seniors and there was really nothing to do except lounge around his room and idly text Scott.

He hadn't gone this long without speaking to Derek since he'd come back to Beacon Hills and Stiles _missed_ him. He wasn't one hundred percent ready to forgive and forget, but he _was_ ready to talk, to try to move forward.

Besides, San Francisco was going to be super awkward if they didn't at least acknowledge one another before then. Stiles knew he was making excuses for himself, and excuses for Derek, but fuck it - he wanted to see him.

He was reaching for his phone when the doorbell rang. He bounded downstairs and peeked through the window; he should be surprised to see Derek but he really wasn't.

"This is literally the first time you've come to the front door," Stiles said, opening the door and leaning against the frame, all nonchalance and steady heartbeat.

"No it's not," Derek countered, as if he couldn't help arguing just for the sake of it. "I've come to the front door loads of times. I know I should have called first, though."

"It's alright," Stiles said truthfully, standing back and motioning Derek in. "Drink?" Derek nodded and Stiles led them into the kitchen, throwing Derek a bottle of water before sitting at the table and gesturing for Derek to do the same. "I was actually getting ready to call you. Phone in my hand and everything."

"Really?" Derek smiled, the sincere, rabbit-toothed smile that had always been Stiles' soft spot. "Erica showed me the prom pictures. It looks like you guys had fun."

"Danny wouldn't wear matching bow ties, and Jackson showed up, but other than that it was good," Stiles said. He hoped their first post-hiatus encounter wouldn't all be small talk, but he was willing to let Derek ease into the conversation if that's what he needed. He had been good about keeping his distance. Stiles could reward him a little.

"Danny has good taste," Derek said wryly. "Although he is best friends with Jackson, so its not _impeccable_ taste."

"Truer words."

They sat for a few minutes in not entirely comfortable silence before Derek finally addressed the elephant in the room. "I'm seeing someone," however, is _not_ what Stiles was hoping for.

"What."

"Not like that!" Derek hastened to add. "A counselor."

"Like a therapist?" Stiles asked, brow furrowed.

"She's a clinical social worker," Derek corrected. "She's good. I mean, obviously werewolf problems are off the table, but other than that, it's not terrible to talk to her. Erica suggested it. She used to see someone."

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this. Derek Hale didn't talk about his problems, he didn't work on things like a reasonable adult. This was pod person behavior. It was also awesome.

"That's great," Stiles said, giving him a huge smile. "Really, Derek. My dad made me see a counselor, after my mom died. It wasn't great, but it helped a little. It's nice to talk to someone outside the situation every once in awhile."

"Yeah," Derek agreed. "Laura used to try to make me, back in New York, but I never would. Wasn't ready, I guess. I thought maybe... Maybe you could come with me, sometime?"

"I could do that," Stiles said, heart hammering.

"Okay," Derek said, rising from the table. "I'll call you in a couple of weeks?"

"Are you coming to graduation?" Stiles asked quickly, not quite ready to see him go.

"Wouldn't miss it."

X X X X

"I think we should go on a date," Derek said. He had, of course, waited until Stiles mouth was full of burger to drop that - well, not bombshell, it's not like it was a total surprise, but they hadn't talked about it lately. They'd been in San Francisco for three months; Derek drove home once a month to see his counselor and the two of them had worked hard to build a pretty good semblance of the relationship they'd had before. The pack had even started giving the two of them the side eye again lately, but nothing romantic had happened at all. They had talked a lot about why Derek had acted the way he had, and what they both expected from the other if they did move forward, but most of that discussion had been confined to their joint counseling sessions, and at no point in the last three months had they even mentioned the word date or relationship. Stiles had felt ready to move on for some time, but he appreciated that Derek was being cautious and trying to work through his own issues before they complicated things even further. Apparently, Derek was feeling ready as well.

"Oh, you do?" Stiles managed, coughing and sputtering.

"Yeah. A movie, maybe? Or dinner?"

"We're having dinner right now," Stiles said, finally getting his breathing under control. "And we're going to a movie after this."

"Yeah, but this isn't a date," Derek said. "This is two friends getting a bite to eat before they see a movie together. On our date, we will do those things plus make out."

"I could be amenable to that," Stiles said, trying for casual. "Could we change _this_ into a date?"

"Nah," Derek replied. "I've been wanting to see this movie for awhile. I don't want you distracting me with the old yawn-and-stretch."

"Yeah, like that would be _my_ move," Stiles scoffed. "I'll be lucky if you don't cut a hole in the bottom of the popcorn container."

Derek laughed. "Even with werewolf healing I don't want hot butter burning my dick, so you don't have to worry about that one."

"Baby," Stiles said. "Alright, then, you're on. Since this isn't a date, you cannot comment when I appreciate the hotness of both Jennifer Lawrence and Tom Hardy tonight. On the other hand, next week we will mack our way through a Nicholas Sparks movie that neither of us want to see, and I won't say one word about whatever bland hunk or CW actress is starring in it."

"I can accept those terms," Derek agreed, smiling fondly at him. "I will probably attempt to hold your hand tonight, though, as a precursor to more physical activities to come."

"Deal."


End file.
